


split second

by asahijpeg



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Blood and Injury, Gen, Levi being Levi, but it's clear it's there at the end, he yells a little bit, i wrote this bc of tiktok, romance is not explicit, what an emotionally stunted captain!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:35:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26483533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asahijpeg/pseuds/asahijpeg
Summary: in which you get hurt and captain levi ackerman may or may not be in love with you
Relationships: Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 118





	split second

there’s this split second instance where it feels like everything around you is floating, your world literally turned upside down as you’re flung from your horse haphazardly. this moment has some kind of ironic beauty about it, you think, seeing your surroundings from a completely different angle. your attention isn’t focused on the fact that you’ve been thrown from your steed or even that it was a titan that caused your fall nor the injuries you’re most certainly facing once your slow motion moment ends and you’re tossed back into your right  _ fucking _ mind; instead, your one track train of thought is wholeheartedly concentrated on the way the clouds look in the vibrant hue of a sunny sky as the blue and white colors break across your vision as your body rights itself for the tuck and roll.

as you expected, this fleeting moment of a paradoxically beautiful event in your life comes to an abrupt end as your back makes its first contact with the ground, knocking precious breath right out of your body. vision spotty, lungs heaving for air as you’re practically thrown like a rag doll across the field, your mind’s only thought is  _ i’m going to die right here, right now _ . you knew going into the scouts that this was, at the very least, a possibility and you were perfectly prepared to accept the opportunity with open arms, but now that it’s actually here, you don’t want to honor that promise, that commitment you made, all out of pure selfishness, a desire to go back home and see your friends and your family and  _ live _ .

adrenaline rushing, you don’t even register that you hit a jagged patch of rocks that shredded your legs, even  _ through _ your military issue boots and pants, until you finally come to a stop at the base of a tree. the searing pain of your wounds wash over you in an instant, not even allowing you time to catch your breath, pulling you in by a tide of piercing agony that leaves you still gasping for air, blood basically adhering your pants to your skin.

the next however long of your life is a blur, though from blood loss or a concussion or just straight starstruckness you don’t know, but you’re conscious enough to know that you  _ somehow, someway _ survive the rest of the expedition. fragments of memories dance across your mind like a moving picture book missing pages: one of your squad members coming back for you and getting you loaded up onto their horse; laying face up in the back of a cart, eyes trained on the doubles of clouds above you; a captain’s visage appearing at your right, just over the edge of the cart, every once in a while just to check on you, their mouth moving in words that your mind refuses to process.

timeline lost to the annals of a (definite) concussion and sheer shellshock, you can barely piece together the rest of your journey home, though faintly remembering the way day bleeds into evening into night and strong arms, mindful of your wounds, lift you into a sturdy chest, body swaying with steady footsteps as they carry you inside.

warm lamplight washing over you brings you back to the real world, drudging up the dull throbbing in your calves and shins, where you took the brunt of the damage; it’s a feeling you definitely blacked out on the way home, too mesmerized by clouds and sky and the strange comfort of riding in the back of the cart, even though you certainly had to have jostles of acute pain when wooden wheels hit bumps and holes.

regardless, you feel at ease as you realize you’re passing through a doorway and find yourself being settled on a bed in the medical wing. whoever it is (you think it’s one of your friends, but you can’t be sure because you can’t bring your mind to focus on anything) says something along the lines of  _ i hope you’re alright _ before they turn on their heels and stride briskly out of the room, their back shrouded in shadow as they disappear from your bedside and past the corner of the threshold.

at some point, your senses start coming back to you, pure adrenaline finally fizzling out for the last time; the stinging of your legs becomes a little less bearable and you’re counting up from one both to figure how long you’ve waited for another person to come see you and to keep your mind focused on something other than the agonizing pain that’s starting to creep in. you’re nearing three hundred when at  _ last _ , there’s a knock at the doorframe and a curt  _ hey _ . pulling your eyes from the window and the night sky beyond, you find your gaze falling on none other than levi ackerman.

your relationship with levi, you think, is probably  _ less _ than desirable to anybody else. the man is quick witted, steadfast in his ways, and quick to anger, and any person in their right mind would more than likely keep away from him in situations outside of survey corps business; you, though, have somehow wormed your way into his life and he, for whatever reason, has let you without so much as a  _ struggle _ . anybody else getting injured like this would melt into their bed from embarrassment to have the most revered captain standing at their bedside like this, but you take an almost debauched pride in it, proud to have his presence grace you.

you can sense his quiet rage, can read the silent annoyance on his face as he stalks towards your bedside; he’s never been very good at concealing his irritation with anything, especially with situations like these. you know you can handle his cold attitude and sharp words he’ll spew in just a few minutes intended to scold you, but you also know that you can get away with cracking a joke because you’re  _ you _ and he’ll let you get away with almost anything because of it.

before he’s even made it halfway to your bedside, you’re sporting a playful grin, marred by scratches you sustained during your tumble, the words brewing on the tip of your tongue as you take in his scowl. “you really need to work on your bedside manner, captain.”

“are you really in a position to be making jokes, cadet?” his eyes fall from yours as he finally makes it to your side and begins rifling through the table to your left, clearly on the scavenge for medical supplies.

cadet?  _ ouch _ . he never calls you that unless he’s incredibly mad with you. despite the way the word ricochets and cuts into your heart like a knife, you know it’s warranted; you’ve come to know  _ well _ that levi hates unnecessary casualties during missions like these and you almost became one. as much as it hurts you to know that you more or less disappointed him, you know that at the very least, the fact that he didn’t greet you with immediate reprimands is his way of showing the slightest bit of care for you.

“just trying to lighten the mood, levi,” you respond, voice as light and airy as you can make it, like your lower legs aren’t currently burning you alive. “sorry.”

he glances at you from the corner of his eyes, his head tilted just a minuscule, before he’s narrowing his brows and turning most of his attention back to his current task at hand. “why don’t you start by telling me what the hell happened.” it’s more of a command rather than a question despite the way he started his sentence.

you turn your head, gaze coming to rest on the ceiling as you pick your brain for an answer, but you find that even the events before hand are out of focus and messy; it’s a struggle to come up with the exact order of anything, but putting the key points in order help you tunnel in on the parts that aren’t as clear. “an abnormal came out of absolutely nowhere and before any of my squad had time to react, i was being tossed from my horse.”

levi hums in response, but doesn’t move to reply, instead opting to seemingly mull your answer over while he picks out the last few supplies he needs. with bandages and water on the tabletop, he helps you sit up gingerly, mindful of your expressions as he does so, gauging the severity of all your injuries, a stark contrast from the roughness of his voice. when he’s got your legs over the edge of the bed, he begins making quick work of taking your boots off, leather shredded completely through ( _ farewell, sweet boots, for you have served me well, _ you think to yourself as he discards them to the side). like you guessed, your pants are glued entirely to your lower legs, the uniform pure white stained a dark crimson red, no way to discern where the fabric ends and your body begins aside from the deep gashes that are littered across your shins and calves.

with your assistance, the two of you make quick work of ridding you of your leg harnesses and your pants up to just above your knees, which somehow escaped mostly unscathed from your fall. levi, despite the absolute anger that still radiates from him, is careful to cut around your injuries, mumbling quiet apologies when you wince or whimper through bitten lips and clenched teeth. just this part is a grueling process and you want nothing more than to collapse back and fall asleep, worry about all of this in the morning, tired of dealing with your full body aches and the now undeniable pain in your legs.

however, once the man before you has finished peeling away the ruined cloth from your skin, you feel less inclined to fall asleep. instead, you simply bask in the warmth of the fact that you are no longer prisoner to blood soaked pants and leather, though this feeling does not last long, levi giving you absolutely no reprieve before he’s dousing a rag with water and beginning the new process of cleaning your legs.

an uncharacteristic shyness washes over you, like the dark haired captain is completely foreign to you, like he hasn’t cleaned your wounds and bandaged you up more times than you can count. freezing anger rolls off him in invisible plumes, chilling you right to the bone, and you have no idea why you’re feeling his exasperation so much more acutely than you were earlier; you find yourself too anxious to even  _ breathe _ as he embarks on part one of this affair, worried that moving too much or saying the wrong thing might set off a reaction you’re not sure you can handle at this particular moment.

instead, you allow him to work in complete silence, one that is only broken by sharp inhalations and quiet hums that you choose to take as apologies. his fingers, skin as callous as his personality, take a certain kind of caution as they grip at the back of your heel and nimbly move to scrubbed dried crimson from your skin. it feels odd, having him before you like this, despite the fact that you’ve been in this same exact position time and time again.

just as you’ve fallen in tune with the mood that took over the room as levi cleansed your skin of blood, it shifts again and instead, you’re enveloped by a severe chill. you realize that his hold on your foot has tightened, though not enough to the point that it hurts; rather, you’re confused, mind racing to decipher the look in his eyes as he begins to bandage your legs, starting at your ankle. suddenly, the pressure of the atmosphere is too much and you bring yourself to break the silence that has become all too insufferable.

“are you alright, levi?” your voice is shot from disuse and dehydration, vocal cords straining under the words you force out of your throat.

the man’s movements still and you can hear the way he inhales slowly, though if it’s to calm himself, it’s to no avail because he looks up at you then, an unrecognizable fire blazing in those intense steel blue eyes of his. before he says anything, his jaw locked with muscle stretching taut under pale skin, he returns his gaze to your legs, fingers not even so much as  _ trembling _ from anger as he continues in his pursuit to cover your wounds.

“what kind of question is that?” he asks, voice rough with surfacing emotion. “am i alright? take a wild guess.” your name rolls off his tongue with such a bitterness that it shocks you; he’s berated you before for tiny careless mistakes during training and missions, but never quite to this degree, never so tinged with upset that it seeps through every facet of him.

“levi-” you start, but his voice cuts in with an edge to sharp you could cut yourself on it.

“don’t start with that shit,” he snaps. “how could you be so reckless? how many times must we repeat this cycle? huh?”

the aches in your body are dissipating by the second, your eyes too focused on the way his facial expressions are changing as he spits razor point words, the creases between his eyebrows, and your mind’s attention on the juxtaposition between the harshness of his tone and the gentle way he’s holding your foot as he winds gauze around your leg. you’ve grown used to his unanimated nature, the way he succinctly portrays his emotions, that this sudden impassioned trait of his, however temporary, takes you back a few steps.

“as a soldier, you’re supposed to take more care, especially during missions like that,” he says, pushing on through his rant without stopping to look at you. “how could you be so fucking rash like that? you’re going to get yourself  _ killed _ .”

you blink, suddenly pulled back into his throes of anger, unyielding and burning white, processing his statement at lightspeed. “and that’s part of the vow i took when i joined the scouts-”

you can practically see the anger bristling beneath his skin, the way his shoulders are taut under his jacket, tense and wound up high; you’re waiting for him to really break because you know this isn’t even the beginning of the full extent of his rage.

“but for such a stupid reason? you’re really willing to die a coward’s death because you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings like you should have been?”

“yes-”

“you  _ shouldn’t _ be!” he gets loud then, real loud; you wouldn’t be surprised if his voice echoed through the door and into the hall.

tears are burning at your waterline, stinging the back of your eyes. “why not?”

and then it snaps. the string you’ve been waiting to break finally snaps in two, letting loose emotions you didn’t even know he had.

“because i can’t  _ lose _ you!”

there’s this split second instance where levi’s five little words ring throughout the room, echoing before they fizzle out entirely. in your head, though, they play on repeat, a loop of one of the most delicately strung sentences you’ve ever heard, but one that is so drenched in sadness and desperation; you didn’t even know he was capable of caring about someone to that degree, given that he’s close with  _ very _ few people.

breath caught in your throat, tears threatening to spill over your lower lash line, you stare at him more intently than you’ve ever done so before, taking in all the little things about him that you’re honestly noticing for the very first time since you inserted yourself into his life. and when he looks back up at you, recognition at what he just said to you dancing behind his eyes, your own string breaks, a thin layer of ice over a pond splintering under the high strung emotion of this moment you’ve found yourself in.

feeling emboldened, even as tears start finding their way down your face, you reach an unscathed hand out towards him, letting your fingers brush across the expanse of his cheek. his skin is soft, warm, yielding under your touch and you revel in the way levi oh so faintly leans into your palm, his own fingers flexing against the back of your ankle, his other hand stilled in its mission of securing your wounds with bandages.

“i can’t lose you either,” you respond quietly, voice wavering with the effort of speaking. it might be one of the softest things you’ve ever said to the man, but it’s only fitting, you think, that  _ this  _ is how you pronounce your some kind of love for one another, all tightrope walking and live wire emotions and five words that just won’t stop repeating, circling on the track of your train of thought.

you swear you see the faintest ghost of a smile dance across levi’s expression, something soft and fleeting and so distinctly _ him _ , as he drops your ankle so he can secure his grip around your wrist instead, fingertips warm against the inside of your arm. with a gentle squeeze, he pulls your hand from his face and refocuses his attention on finishing tending to your wounds.

the silence that falls over the two of you as he secures one leg and begins on the other is less stifling this time, less suffocating and more welcoming, like a warm blanket on a snow ridden night. neither of you say anything, no elaborating on what you meant by your words or figuring out where to go from this point on because there’s no way your relationship isn’t changing after this, but there is an unspoken promise of conversation when everything is said and done, especially when levi finishes wrapping your other leg, giving you a concrete soft smile as he stands to put away the supplies he used and leaving you with a single head pat with the promise that he’d be back soon (with a meal, you hope).

you can’t wait.

**Author's Note:**

> listened to peace by taylor swift on repeat while i wrote this bc it def fit the vibes too well (it's really just a levi kind of song tbh)
> 
> anyways i wrote this bc of hmlauren on tiktok, so i hope she enjoys this bc i was actually really excited abt it. i usually struggle with ideas, so when the motivation and the idea strikes, i gotta get in there while i can. 
> 
> i really hope you enjoyed it, lauren <3
> 
> -90sugawara on tiktok


End file.
